


everything is softer in the eyes of dawn

by yuzubalm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Copious descriptions of nature and the sun, Established Relationship, Hatsumode - First Shrine Visit of the New Year, I'm serious this is really Super Tender, M/M, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Or maybe the year after, Tenderness, They're just...cute, Third Year maybe, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28710477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuzubalm/pseuds/yuzubalm
Summary: One, two claps.Osamu closes his eyes, and wishes for happiness.The first shrine visit of the new year.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 22
Kudos: 98
Collections: SunaOsa





	everything is softer in the eyes of dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Hatsumode; first shrine visit of the new year. 
> 
> The tone for this one is a little soft, a little quiet. I promise; everything is okay and you will feel happy and warm by the end of it. 
> 
> Wishing everyone a steady and grounding new year. :)

On the first day of the new year, Osamu breaks tradition and leaves the house without Atsumu.

The ground is not yet blessed with the glow of the new sun, the streets not yet filled with the buzz of warm bodies. The morning dew hangs still in the air, waiting to be formed. The atmosphere, prickly with cold, stirs slowly with occasional movement in the skies and river, stillness punctuated only by fellow early risers who, too, obey the silent code of dawn. A quiet respect for the earth and its inhabitants, fitting for the first day of yet another cycle around the sun. 

The stillness is slightly strange to Osamu, who has lived a life knowing nothing but activity. Atsumu is little like the trickling brook he walks alongside this morning, and more like a raging river which ends in a waterfall. Loud, excitable, energetic. 

Maybe, he supposes, he’s naturally like that too, as brothers born of the same blood. But when stillness beckons, he listens, and the current soothes.

The wind grazes his ears pink, soft to the touch but icy in its wake, timidly brushing his hair into loose curls. The base of his neck, protected by the collar of his haori, is spared from the play. 

The brook trails to the left but his path brings him to the right, where ground meets brick, and brick soon meets concrete-

-And, as Osamu looks into the horizon, the sun gently sweeps the horizon with orange and pink waves.

He turns, and passes the torii gate. 

——-

The compound sits in the morning mist, bathed in a faint, dewy glow. It isn’t completely empty, as the new year tends to invite early risers, but it’s empty enough for Osamu to miss the warmth of the crowd, if only barely. 

The sun inches up once more. Gold hits brown, hits black, hits specks of white into his eyes, which he blinks away, slowly. 

In the rising gold, Osamu finds who he’s looking for. Seated on the stone bench closest to him, his back is turned towards the horizon, sun in his face, faint gold accent peeking through the edge of his haori sleeve which flutters gently on his lap as the wind gently licks the folds of his clothing and hair. 

Suna sits unperturbed, his eyes remaining closed as he raises his chin up slightly, just as the sun tilts and hits him gently across his left cheek and down his arm, where at the end he turns his palm up and basks, quiet, patient. Osamu watches with bated breath as the sunlight pools into his lap and flows slowly away.

“Happy new year.” It slips out of him as a whisper, the first greeting.

Suna’s eyes flutter open and fix onto Osamu, warm gaze made warmer by the sunrise.

“You’re early.”

“You’re earlier.” 

Suna’s fingers smooth over the edges of his haori as he stands up, twisting them slightly as they fall away from his hands. Osamu notices the thin gold thread that runs through the hem of an otherwise muted outerwear, notices it again when Suna’s fingers brush against his and grasp his hand before quickly slipping away. 

“Happy new year,” he says, cheeks pink. “Let’s go.”

——-

The ascent to the shrine is a hundred steps long. Suna stops at step fifty-three.

“Sorry for taking you away from your brother.”

Osamu hums as he pauses on the step below him.

“I think yer doin’ us both a favour.”

The trees sway, filtering the ground with light. The stairs are mahogany. Suna’s nagagi is a deep blue.

His eyes, a piercing yellow. 

“Hope he doesn’t miss you,” he says slowly, taking another step. 

His gaze rests on Osamu, questioning. 

_Is it okay, that I’m taking you away?_

Osamu wants to reach out for his hand, but Suna is surprisingly particular about etiquette in shrines. _Respectful_ , Suna insists. _Cautious_ , Osamu interprets.

“I wanted to go with you,” he says. “Is that okay?”

In the shade, Suna’s features seem to soften.

“Yeah, it is.”

They keep climbing, shades of mahogany fading into streaks of chestnut, eventually merging into flat ground as the trees fall back to frame the compound. Dawn stretches across the sky fully now, mixing with the January cold for the colours in the landscape to vividly come into view. 

The shrine is unassuming but beautiful even to Osamu’s untrained eye, embodying shades of wood and black and white with just a sliver of gold at its frames. An embellishment sits atop: a stroke of the deities’ brush, akin to the swipe of a thumb across a forehead, marking a blessing. 

There’s barely a wait to the front - a reward to those willing to take a walk out of the city and up the steps - though the wait is simultaneously pleasant, cool air and morning sun an inviting combination. 

“Have you decided what you’re going to pray for?” Suna asks him absentmindedly.

Osamu thinks about praying for peace, success, and guidance. For the discovery of a good recipe. For another year to spend with his family. For time to spend with Rintarou. 

“A new twin.”

He earns a laugh for the answer. 

The platform is long enough to fit two people, so they bow in unison, twice, after tossing their coins as an offering. From the corner of Osamu’s gaze, he watches as Suna’s eyes flutter close again and he brings his palms gently together. 

The image of Suna at dawn tugs at his heart as Osamu inhales deeply and mirrors the movement.

One, two claps.

Osamu closes his eyes, and wishes for happiness. 

——-

“We’re not supposed to share our prayers,” Suna says afterwards, hands hovering over a charm. “Good health for my parents?”

“Yeah, that one. I just wanted to know what’s on ya mind. Infant protection for Tsumu?”

Suna laughs, a soft, rare chirpy noise, and deposits a different item into his palm.

“For both your sakes, get this. And don’t worry.”

Osamu cradles the charm with his hands. It’s blue and silver with hints of pink. __Harmony__ , it reads at the front. 

In turn, he points to a pink charm. “For your sister?”

Suna scoffs and picks a black one instead. “Safety on the roads. She’s always looking at her phone.” 

__Watch out yourself__ , Osamu retorts in his head as he watches the shrine attendant wrap the items into a paper bag. Suna’s expression is quiet, not bored, gaze trailing the attendant’s hands, to the row of amulets in front of him, to Osamu, and back. 

In the midst of the quiet, the mild thought occurs that Suna’s hands look slightly paler without a phone in their grasp. 

“You were staring.”

Osamu blinks as Suna tugs him away by his haori sleeve, Suna’s fingers tinged pink against its slate grey. 

“I was waiting,” he says, letting himself be pulled. 

Suna hums, long and slow, turning his head slightly to let a ray of sun bounce against his cheek and onto his collarbone. His hand falls away, and Osamu misses it. But not for long.

The tips of Suna’s fingers are cold to the touch as he picks something out of the bag and wraps it with Osamu’s palm. 

“For you.”

Osamu’s hand opens to reveal a square charm with a single red camellia embroidered on white silk. 

“Mine’s black,” Suna says, turning his palm up to show him his own. White on black, splash of red in the middle, matching the yellow stigma in the center of his. 

Osamu looks up at him, lump in his throat. The sunlight picks up hints of dark hair, yellow eyes, gold thread and pale pink frosted over, leaving behind a soft, soft heat that dissipates across his chest and lingers. 

“ _Rin_ ,” he breathes, “y’know, I love you.”

Suna’s eyes widen at Osamu’s words as though he doesn’t already know, which makes Osamu think that maybe, this year, he should say it to him more often. 

“I should probably tell my mom that we’re dating, then,” he replies, voice small, eyes a little brighter than they were before. 

Osamu knows he hasn’t told her. But he thinks she already kind of knows, judging by the smiles she gives him when she sees him. 

“I think,” he says gently, “she’d be happy.”

“Happy for me?”

“And happy that you told her.”

Suna blinks, slowly and quietly. 

“Come over later, then,” he says eventually. “Say hi to my sister, too.”

Osamu nods, smiling as the warmth of the sun spreads over his face. 

“Okay.” 

Without thinking, he links his pinky finger with Suna’s, and, when he doesn’t sense resistance, his ring, then middle, then index, then thumb. Suna’s fingers tense, and relax in his grip. 

“Your hand’s warm.”

“Yer hand’s cold,” Osamu mutters to him as they walk out towards the pavement, at which Suna huffs. 

“Then let go.”

“No.”

Suna’s lips quirk upwards, almost cheekily.

“You love me,” he murmurs.

Osamu gives his hand a light squeeze. “And ya don’t?”

“...I never said that.”

Osamu‘s laughter rings bright and clear in the fresh morning air, breaking the spell of dawn. Soon, the sun will be fully awake and stretched across the wide expanse of sky as it welcomes new visitors to the shrine, new energies to a new day, and new hopes to a new year. Soon, his brother will call and demand for mochi. Soon, the peace will be undone. 

But for now, the horizon is empty, peaceful, and theirs to claim. 

“What’s so funny?”

Osamu hums in reply, leaning over to graze Suna’s cheek with his lips. Suna smiles, wider this time, as he lets him. 

“Nothin’. I’m happy.” His breath is hot against the curve of his cheek. 

“Okay.” 

Suna turns his head and kisses him back, mouth warm, soft, smiling against his. 

“I’m happy, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> _As I finished writing, I myself went “oh, shit”-_
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I’ve just found out how powerful shrine visit / new year fics can be. It's so powerful that I actually ditched work to write this in one sitting (I'll have to make up for it tonight). This is life-changing. I might write another. 
> 
> I didn’t have any particular shrine in mind, but I did think of two particular charms. In 2014, I bought a blue palm-sized charm with an embroidered butterfly at Todaiji, for good relations, and in 2015, I bought a white and red camellia charm even though it wasn't my assigned birth flower. Those charms in particular are very dear to me.
> 
> Btw, camellia flower = affection. faith. (In my mind the camellia actually completely fits neither suna nor samu, but Akaashi, so, uh, look out for another piece sometime. hahahhahaa.)
> 
> Find me on twitter/tumblr @yuzubalm! [Ah, here.](https://twitter.com/yuzubalm)


End file.
